Baby Maker - A Secret Baby Sports Star Romance

by Rayner, Holly

  “So the stress of all that sent Amy into early labor,” Jen told her boyfriend. I saw their gazes linger on each other and the little smile that formed on their lips. “And that’s where I met you.”

  “But if Finn was arguing with his agent…”

  “I figured out what was going on,” Finn explained. “As soon as I fired Heather, and told her that if she didn’t get out of the orphanage I was going to call the cops, I rushed to the hospital.”

  “I supposedly wasn’t in labor all that long,” I interjected. “But it felt like hours had passed since I left the children’s home by the time Finn came in.”

  “And you really trusted that the baby was yours? Even after not seeing her for nine months?”

  Finn nodded. “There was never a second’s doubt in my mind,” he said.

  “Why?”

  I hadn’t ever dared to ask Finn that question; I hadn’t wanted to open up a can of worms.

  “Part of it was that I knew that Amy wouldn’t be coming to me about it unless she was sure,” Finn said. “Another part of it was that the timing was right. And, probably, there was just part of me that hoped that it was true—and that was glad when she told me it was.”

  “Coach wasn’t my biggest fan,” I said, looking at him and Mrs. Simmons with a little smile. “When the article came out, he blamed me for it.”

  “That’s only because I didn’t know about your boss,” Coach Simmons protested.

  “In fairness, that’s true,” I told Josh. “And of course, I couldn’t say anything about it to anyone, or the newspaper would get me into legal trouble.”

  That led to a discussion of current events, and I wasn’t the only one at the table quietly rejoicing that Kent Lambert was getting exactly what he deserved.

  “Isn’t the paper going under?” Jen asked.

  I shook my head. “I heard from one or two people I’m still in touch with that my old direct boss, Malcolm, is actually on the shortlist to replace Kent,” I told her. “Considering the gargantuan task of trying to fix the paper’s image though, I’m not convinced he wants it.”

  “Would you go back if he asked you?”

  I thought about that for a moment. When I’d chatted with Malcolm a few days before, the question had occurred to me, but I hadn’t yet answered it for myself.

  “I don’t think so,” I said finally. “First, because I don’t want to go back to work until Claire’s a bit older. And then, too, I’m not sure that I want to be back in there—even with Kent gone, there’s going to be a lot of people who think just like him.”

  “If your former boss is smart, he’ll already know that,” Coach Simmons pointed out. “I wouldn’t be surprised to hear about more layoffs in the future.”

  I nodded. The people directly involved in the scandal—Kent, and a bunch of the staffers—had already been given the heave-ho from the board, but I knew that there were people who had supported what Kent was doing; some of them would likely find themselves without jobs in the near future, depending on who took over from the editor-in-chief.

  “I think I’m actually happy where I am right now,” I said finally, and we changed the subject to other things.

  As the dinner wore on, I reached under the table, and Finn took my hand in his, rubbing his thumb against my palm. I felt so happy, so content, that I thought I might glow almost as brightly as the Christmas tree in the next room. At the same time, I was calmer than I had been in months. I had lost my job, and lost a man that I cared about before everything had righted itself, and yet, I didn’t think that I would change even a second of the year that had passed, even the difficult moments.

  We divvied up the trifle and I made coffee—decaf for me, regular for everyone else. I felt warm and content to be starting a new tradition, with the man I’d fallen in love with.

  Our guests left for their own homes and Finn pulled me into his arms in the living room. We danced in the light of the Christmas tree, and Finn maneuvered us towards one of the sprigs of mistletoe I’d put up.

  “Look at that,” he murmured, grinning in the colorful soft light.

  “Stop acting like you’re surprised,” I said playfully.

  He leaned in and kissed me lightly on the lips, his arms tightening around my waist. The music played on as we deepened the kiss, the atmosphere between us heating up moment by moment.

  “I think it’s time for bed, don’t you?”

  “I couldn’t agree more,” Finn said, letting go of my waist to let me pick up Claire, to carry her up to our room. She didn’t even begin to wake up, and I knew that it would be hours before I had to feed her again; plenty of time for Finn and me to ring in Christmas Day together.

  TWENTY-TWO

  Amy

  The next morning, Finn and I got up after dawn; Claire was awake, and even if she didn’t know the significance of the day, she seemed more alert than usual. We went into the living room and Finn made coffee while I started sorting through the presents. We’d gone a little overboard on Claire’s gifts, but since we had also picked out a huge haul for Maclaren, I didn’t feel too guilty about a little spoiling for our daughter.

  Finn and I gave Claire one of her presents, but of course she had no idea what to do with it. We took pictures of her smacking and tearing at the paper, laughing merrily before we started opening the presents ourselves.

  I’d bought something for Finn with the money I’d earned freelancing in the months since Claire had been born. I handed him the box, and he unwrapped it while I watched, casting a few curious glances in my direction. It had cost a big chunk of my extra earnings, but when I saw the look on his face, I knew that it was completely worth it.

  “How in God’s name did you manage this?” Finn lifted the little trophy out of the box, shaking his head in disbelief.

  I’d managed to track down the company that made the trophies he’d earned in high school, and found the model used for the first hockey trophy he’d ever received as MVP for his team. A little digging had gotten me the contact information for Finn’s all-time favorite hockey player. A little digging, and a little begging, had gotten the trophy into the player’s hands, and then back to me with an autograph.

  “I’m very good,” I said smugly.

  “You are better than very good,” Finn told me, kissing me on the lips. “You’re amazing.”

  He grabbed a box from under the tree and handed it to me, and I got to have my own surprised moment; I hadn’t even noticed the little gift, tucked away amongst the other things that we’d bought together.

  I opened the box to find a silver locket—the old-school kind—with Claire’s first picture in miniature tucked into it, along with a picture of Finn—one of the few where he wasn’t in his uniform. Finn helped me put it on, and we lazed around, opening a few more presents, sipping our coffee, enjoying the warmth of the fire and the lights on the tree.

  We made a simple lunch of leftovers from the previous night’s dinner and I let Claire sample a fingertip’s worth of cream from the trifle, along with a half of a slice of carrot. My parents came over just after lunch and brought their presents with them, and once again we let Claire work on one while Finn and I took care of the rest. All in all, Claire got a haul of adorable toys; she also got more clothes than I thought she could possibly use, and a handful of books that would come in handy for those few nights when she couldn’t sleep.

  I hadn’t counted on getting very many gifts; after all, even before I’d had a baby, my parents and I hadn’t really “done” presents, and I didn’t expect that to change all that much. But when my parents left after a few hours and Finn and I cleared out the family presents to start gathering up what we wanted to take to Maclaren, I realized that I’d actually been given a lot.

  Jen had bought me a few pieces of lingerie “to enjoy your new body,” according to the card taped to the bag. Finn had bought me the softest, warmest slippers, and a bath set from my favorite spa to enjoy, along with a book written by one of my all-time
favorite reporters. My parents had bought me a baby book to fill with details of Claire’s early life, and a new recorder to replace the one I’d lost shortly after leaving the Inquisitor.

  TWENTY-THREE

  Finn

  When we got to Maclaren, I was surprised to realize that I was even happier than I’d been the last time I’d visited; I had my new daughter with me, and I had the family that I had wanted ever since I was a kid myself. I saw some doubtful looks on the kids’ faces as we started hauling in the presents that Amy and I had gotten. I knew what they were thinking—Now that he’s got a kid of his own, he’s going to stop caring about us.

  I introduced the staff and the kids to Amy and Claire, and then the presents started to go out, and I sat back with the two girls I loved more than anything else in the world, watching the kids ripping into the paper, tugging the lids off of boxes. I’d gone all-out in a way that I hadn’t in previous years. I felt so blessed, so completely and totally happy with my life, that I couldn’t imagine giving anything less to the kids who got so few chances to really experience family.

  The doubt on the kids’ faces evaporated as they realized that I’d actually given more than I had the year before, that they had more presents instead of fewer ones. Amy had suggested that we buy a few of the newest games consoles for the home, and we’d bought four, so that the kids could all get a decent chance at playing, along with a range of different games to go with them.

  I’d bought gear for some of the kids that were starting to get into school sports, and I’d gotten toys for the youngest ones. Amy herself had picked out some warm clothes—not just socks and scarves, but hats and jackets as well. The Maclaren kids might never be the best-dressed, but they would be able to hold their heads high when they went back to school after the break.

  It made me feel good to see the joy on the kids’ faces. To know that I’d done something, even if it was small, to make their lives better. I knew how hard the staff worked to try to make things good for the kids, but they were chronically underfunded, and there was only so much to go around. The kids ran around, fueled on sugary drinks and cookies, and we went outside with them so that they could put some of their outdoor toys to use.

  Afterwards, I helped some of the staff members set up the consoles, and Amy laughed with some of the women who worked at the home, helping them put out more snacks, letting them hold Claire and coo over her. I thought to myself that I wanted to bring my little girl to the orphanage every year; I wanted Claire and Amy both to be there with me the next time I came to deliver presents on my birthday. I wanted my daughter to grow up thinking about the kids almost like her extended family—the same way that I viewed them.

  Amy and I finally ran out of steam a bit after a couple of hours and sat around, watching the kids play with their presents, and the staff brought over some cookies that the kids had made. I held Claire and took every opportunity I could to kiss and hold Amy, basking in the warmth of the atmosphere, in the happiness and cheer.

  “You know,” Amy said, when the party started to wind down, “we should do something like this with Claire when she gets older.”

  She pointed out the “Family Tree” pasted up on one of the walls. It was one of the ways that Maclaren tried to foster a sense of family—they had each of the kids pick one of the other kids and claim them as “family,” putting their name on a branch of a tree made from paper cutouts. The kids pasted up their branches to make the big, sprawling tree on the wall, and by the time they were done, they had something that was as beautiful as it was chaotic.

  “She’s not likely to have dozens of people to choose from,” I pointed out.

  “Maybe instead of family members, she could pick something every year that she’s grateful for,” Amy suggested. “All three of us could. I think it would be a good way to get into the spirit of the season.”

  “That sounds great,” I said, kissing her on the cheek.

  We started back towards home when the afternoon started to get into evening; Claire was fast asleep in her seat in the back of the car, and she didn’t wake up when Amy lifted her out of it once we arrived at the house. We went inside, out of the cold, and I gave Amy a few moments to put our daughter down for the night.

  “I think this is the best Christmas I’ve ever had,” Amy told me when she came back into the living room.

  “Me too,” I said, pulling her close to me on the couch. I put on Miracle on 42nd Street, and we cuddled in the dark, watching the movie together.

  I thought about the previous year’s Christmas, when I’d thought that Amy had betrayed me. I’d blocked her number and sworn to myself that I was never going to be fooled again. I’d tried to tell myself that I was going to move forward, that I would cut her out of my life—that months down the line, I wouldn’t even remember her name. I couldn’t be more grateful for how everything had changed in the months since.

  I smiled to myself as Amy shifted next to me, murmuring sleepily. I should have known that what she and I had was different; that fate had played a role in our paths crossing. We’d heard on the news on the way home that Kent Lambert had fresh charges against him—that the case was growing still, even though he was already on trial. With Amy in my arms, I thought about everything that had happened between us—about the fact that our own story was a kind of miracle, just like the film we were watching on TV.

  “You know,” I murmured to Amy when she woke up towards the end of the movie, “we should probably thank Kent.”

  “Thank him? That’s a lot of Christmas spirit you have there,” Amy said, looking up at me through sooty eyelashes.

  “Think about it,” I countered. “If it weren’t for him, you and I never might never have met.”

  “Yeah, but if it weren’t for him, that stupid article would never have happened, and you wouldn’t have cut me off,” Amy pointed out.

  “Do you ever think about coming forward about that?” I asked, brushing my lips against Amy’s temple. I knew it still bothered her—the damage that Kent had done to her reputation.

  “I feel like it’s probably beside the point now,” she said with a shrug. “The damage is done, but the worst part—losing your trust—has been resolved.”

  I looked into Amy’s eyes. “Are you happy? I mean, really happy?”

  “I’m as happy as I could ever imagine being,” Amy told me. “I don’t miss the Inquisitor. I have the guy I love, and I have a daughter who’s amazing.” She smiled. “What about you—are you happy?”

  “I’m so happy that it just about feels criminal,” I told her.

  The movie ended, and we went into the kitchen together, hungry in spite of the cookies and punch we’d had at the Maclaren party. There wasn’t much in the way of leftovers in the fridge, but we put together a little feast from stuff I’d stocked the freezer with: chicken fingers and French fries, with a side of hot chocolate.

  “You know, we keep reliving all this stuff from the early part of our relationship,” Amy remarked, eating a French fry.

  “We have to make up for lost time,” I pointed out.

  We brought the food back into the living room and I started up another movie; it was almost midnight, and Claire would probably wake up soon, ready to be fed and changed again before she slept through the rest of the night.

  “What do you think it would have been like if things hadn’t gone the way they had?” Amy took a bite of a chicken finger and shifted on the couch to look at me. “I mean, do you think we would have been more than a fling?”

  “It’s kind of hard to say, isn’t it?”

  “I’d like to think that I was woman enough to keep your interest,” Amy said with a grin.

  “Oh, totally,” I agreed. “And I guess if I could have my way, I’d want to have known about Claire the same time you did—or as close as possible to then.”

  I shook my head, remembering the reason I hadn’t found out about my daughter until the day of her birth: Heather.

  “Did I tell you
? Heather’s agency is going out of business.”

  “Really?”

  I nodded. “Nobody in professional sports wants to work with her—she’s lost every single one of her clients.”

  If Kent getting his comeuppance was a Christmas present for Amy, then Heather getting what was coming to her made me almost as happy. Heather might not have tried to ruin my career, the way Kent did, but if it weren’t for her pushing us apart I’d have been able to take care of Amy throughout her pregnancy, something I still felt guilty about.

  “All she cared about was using me to try to make more money, to become some celebrity in her own right,” I said, shaking my head.